Lift em up foot

While we stayed with Murray and Justine, they told us stories of their time working with the Yalata people on the edge of the Nullarbor. One story involved a dirt road with a dangerous corner which the community thought needed a warning sign. So they took matters into their own hands and painted a sign on an old car bonnet along the approach to the curve which read "lift em up foot".

Now after 2 weeks of driving with the pedal to the metal, past scores of things we would liked to have looked at, it is finally time for us to lift em up foot.  Time to slow down and enjoy a few more stops along the way to our first 'destination', Karijini National Park.

The first of these stops was Walga Rock, which was as fascinating as London Bridge was disappointing. It is a huge lump of granite, apparently Australia's second largest monolith, sticking out of the surrounding plain. Walking over its surface you see intricate weathering patterns that have carved out the rock, depressions where the water pools to allow pockets of life, mulga with the most beautiful red bark, and expansive views of the surrounds. Next life I am definitely coming back to sit atop this rock at dawn, the sunrise would be awe inspiring.

weathered granite, Walga Rock

Walga Rock

an oasis in the rock

red barked mulga

shagged on the rock

As interesting as all this is, Walga real gem is the rock art gallery at its base. Amoung a large collection of traditional ochre paintings is a real curiosity, a picture of a three masted sailing ship, that is has the boffins really stumped. One theory proposes that it was drawn by a survivor of a Dutch shipwreck, despite being 350 km from the coast. Another, that it is a 'first contact' drawing. Yet another that it was drawn by an Afghan because it is subscribed by what looks like Arabic script. Personally, I reckon they are making it up as they go along.

Walga Rock art

Walga Rock art

the mysterious ship 

We'll see you when the dust settles

Would you like flies with that?

We had expected to be bored witless driving across the Nullarbor but the subtle changes in the landscape kept things interesting enough, and at a steady 120 kph the long straight roads flew by. At Eucla, the Bunda Cliffs turn abruptly inland to become the southern boundary of the Hampton Tableland allowing the vast, flat Roe Plain to open up between the cliffs and the coast. You drop down on to the Roe Plain at Eucla and follow the base of the cliff until climbing back up onto the tableland at Madura Pass.

Roe Plain from Madura Pass

On the far side of the Nullabor are WA's Goldfields, centred on the sprawling town of Kalgoorlie, home to the "Big Pit".  No photo could capture its scale so I didn't even try, so you will have to trust me that it is bigger than a VERY big thing.

The stuff they dig out of the ground is not all that glisters around here. There is a species of mallee with the most beautiful golden branches. Mallee is thinking that just maybe she might keep her name after all.

The girls with a golden mallee

Camping in the mulga scrubland near Meekatharra reminds you that humans, like other animals, are just life support systems for flies. Out here, the flies are the lords. We give them food and drink, we carry them round, and when we poo or die we nurture their young. They are obviously well pleased with our effort because because they come out in swarms to greet us.

We picked up some tourist brochures in Leonora that assured us that the Mt Magnet area was dotted with geological attractions, including London Bridge near the town of Sandstone so we decided to take the long route to Meekatharra. London Bridge failed to live up to the advance publicity. It turned out to be an erosional arch carved out of one the weathered basalt 'break always' that rise about 10 m above the surrounding plain in this region. Nice enough, but not the sort of thing we'd normally drive for half a day to look at. 

London Bridge near Sandstone

Still I don't blame the good citizens of Sandstone, I'd probably talk it up too if that was all I had. And in their defence, they did build a great little water park that was welcome relief for the kids and gave us all our first 'showers' in ages.

Jaz at Sandstone water park

It seems that designated campsites are increasingly being afflicted by the curse of the Glampers. People who arrive at remote campsites like the one Lake Mason Conservation Reserve with huge camper trailers or off-road caravans. These are adorned with televisions, satellite dishes, air conditioners, and more lights than most small towns. All of which take power, so no sooner do they stop than out come the generators to disturb the evening tranquility with their incessant drone. And the Glampers themselves? They seem to retreat so quickly into their camper van cocoons that you wonder whether they could have had an equivalent experience camped in their backyards. All of which is only hardening our resolve to camp off the track.

We'll see you when the dust settles.

Why did the chickens cross the continent?

We are still in the transit phase of our journey. It is all about getting to the other side. The consequence is that we have a growing 'must come back' list of fascinating places that we would like to spend more time in. Near the top of this list is the Streaky Bay area. The coastline here is as fascinating as it is windy. A jumble of bays, beaches, cliffs and huge dune fields bordering weatherbeaten scrub.

playing on the Yanerbie Sand Dunes

The Granites

Tucked behind a scrubby dune on Sceale Bay is the house that Muz built. A house that really reflects his character and is all the better for it. Recycled bits and pieces built into the structure, solar power, composting toilet. A definite 'must come back'.

the house that Muz built.

From Streaky Bay it is half a day to the isolated settlement of Fowler's Bay, and more huge sand hills. There is no mains power here, its all solar, wind and gennys. And the water tastes of lime, but the caravan park has a rustic cuteness and an incredibly welcoming manager. Yes, that's right I said caravan park. I know we swore to avoid them like the plague but the landscape around here seemed so inhospitable that we gave in.

Fowlers Bay

Sunset over the dunes, Fowlers Bay

The Head of the Bight, just east of the Nullarbor, is one of those places that flabbers your gaster. To the east the coast is blanketed by vast sand dunes. But here, at the northern most point of the Great Australian Bight, for reasons known only to itself and perhaps a few smartypants geomorphologists, the coast very suddenly sheds its sandy blanket to reveal the Bunda Cliffs that form the forbidding coastline along much of the Bight. The limestone that forms these cliffs seems no different from the stuff to the east so I am stuffed if I can figure out what is going on.

Bunda Cliffs, Nullarbor

Mallee mucking round on top of Bunda Cliffs and giving Nic a heart attack

As we continued west, the trees got smaller and sparser and eventually disappeared and we were on the Nullabor Plain. Like many limestone landscapes, this one has caves, deep sinkholes in which the water pools forming oases. Often these holes are home to figs, stone fruit and other 'useful' plants thanks to seeds dropped by settlers. We drove out to look at Koonalda Cave and the nearby homestead. Its really hard to capture the scale of these caves in with a camera but those little specks on top are Nic, Mallee and Jaz.

The homestead itself is interesting for the walls being made of railway sleepers and the rafters being railway line. The corrugated road to Koonalda was responsible for our first major equipment failures. We stopped halfway back the main road to set up camp and discovered that all but one of the rivets on our awning had sheared and so had one of the bike brackets. A few more kilometres and both would have fallen off. Our compensation was being treated to a beautiful Nullabor sunset to the west coincident with an equally beautiful moonrise to the east.

We'll see you when the dust settles

to Eyre is human

The zoo was a great day, albeit punctuated by punctures. I patched 8 of them thanks to Dubbo's abundance of cat-head burrs. So Day 4 began with a trip to the bike shop to buy self-sealing, kevlar belted, bullet-proof NATO standard inner tubes because Rod assures us the burrs only get worse further west.

King Julian

our animals and friends

We left Dubbo late, bound for Cobar, and the planes just got plainer. A sign along the way left us wondering what sort of whisky-soaked, homesick delirium would inspire some mad Irishman to think that a godforsaken speck on this dry, dusty plain bore any resemblance to Tullamore.

the green rolling hills near Tullamore, NSW

Despite the long straight roads and the lack of topography, western NSW does have its good points. When you tire of caravan parks and designated campsites you can just turn left anywhere off the road, find a nice clearing, gather some firewood, roll out you swags and settle down for the night. There really isn't much that can compare to lying in a swag and staring up at a sky full of blazing stars.

The firewood here is incomparably better than the stuff on the coast. Hardened by the tough conditions, just a few branches will cook your dinner and the coals will last long enough that you need only gather a few dry leaves, give some long, deep breaths and you've got a fire for the billy and brekkie the next morning.

Swags were a new experience for the girls, but despite their reservations about waking up to find they were sharing them with a snake, they settled in and were soon out like lights. Actually, Jaz was never really worried because she had a dog, a bear and a white tiger to protect her.

snug as bugs in rugs

Day 5 was also the day when our carefully planned itinerary went out the window. We had planned to spend two nights in Broken Hill, but we decided to cut back to one so we could spend a couple of nights in Streaky Bay. Good thing too, because the caravan park in Broken Hill wanted to charge $50 for an unpowered tent site. This just hardened out resolve to get out of there and avoid caravan parks whenever possible in the future.

On the way to Broken Hill we called Murray and Justine who used to own property just south of Streaky Bay but had recently moved to Port Lincoln. They took the opportunity to abuse us for not visiting them in the 10 years that they lived at Streaky, before confirming that they still had the property there and inviting us to use the house. They also challenged us to visit them in Port Lincoln, which is how, on Day 6, we came to spend 9  hours driving the long, flat and deadly straight roads from the Hill to Port Augusta and down the east side of the Eyre Peninsula.

the road from Broken Hill

the 'shortcut' to Orrooro

the Big Gum, Orrooro

Along the way we had the opportunity to introduce Mallee to mallees. She was very disappointed and complained that they we scraggly and ugly. We assured her that there are many species of mallee, some with beautiful slender branches and vibrant flowers but she remained unconvinced and is considering changing her name to Jane.

one of Murray's pets

Muz and Juz never age but their kids are growing up fast, and had a great time playing with ours. We had a delicious dinner of kangaroo bolognaise, much richer than beef, and the next morning went out to see the highlights of Port Lincoln -  it didn't take long. The drive up the west coast of the Eyre Peninsula is much more interesting than the east. Rolling limestone hills, coastal glimpses, swampy lakes. The mallees have mostly been cleared for cropping where it isn't too rocky, and grazing where it is. The cleared rocks are usually dumped along the fence lines, or sometimes built into the fences themselves. It seems like a hell of a lot of work. Just after dark we finally found the beach house.

limestone wall, Eyre Peninsula

We'll see you when the dust settles.

Mostly Harmless

The first couple of days have been pleasantly uneventful. The landscape has changed from coastal rainforests, through the stunted gum trees of the Tablelands, across the red croplands and basalt caps of the Liverpool Plains and out onto the broad expanses of the Western Plains. So far nothing Nic and I are unfamiliar with, having spent years studying the landscapes between here and the coast.

hit the frog

For the girls, however, this is all new, and we managed to get their heads out of their tablets long enough for them to appreciate the beautiful streams cutting the Dorrigo Plateau and the jagged peaks of the Warrumbungles. We have decided to ration their screen time so that they they spend at least as much time looking out the windows as at their screens. When they complained we explained to them that if they look out the window its high definition AND 3D, but I don't think they were convinced.

The boffins at Siding Springs Observatory west of Coonabarabran have created a planetarium along the road in. The much lamented ex-planet Pluto is at Tamworth and the Sun is hundreds of kilometres away at the Observatory. At this scale, even driving at 110km per hour, its half an hour or more between the big gas planets and when you get there they are only the size of large beach balls. It's a great idea and I think it really helped Mallee appreciate the vastness of space. Jarrah, on the other hand, just delighted in the opportunity to make lots of jokes about looking at Uranus.

the first brekkie

We spent the first night on the eastern shore of Lake Keepit. Its funny that we are always drawn to bodies of water for our campsites, even if it is the uninspiring shores of an artificial lake. Camping at Keepit is the 'rural residential' of camping. You're neighbours are close enough that you are vaguely aware of them, but far enough away that you've got some sense of privacy. Tonight we are in the Big 4 Caravan Park in Dubbo, and this is camping's high density suburbia. But we're not here for the wilderness, but for the wildlife, tomorrow the Western Plains Zoo. No trip to western NSW would be complete without it.

We'll see you when the dust settles

Unsettlingly Settled

Only one more sleep. I had hoped to make the title of this post "The Storm Before the Calm" but alas everything has been remarkably tranquil. More like a brisk autumn breeze blowing leaves busily along the track than thunder and lightning.

The girls have been occupied with the traditional worries that have concerned children embarking on a long journey since time immemorial. Will we miss our friends? Will we get lost? Will we be eaten by crocs? Will we die of thirst in the desert? Will we have internet reception?

Nic has been flat out like a lizard drinking organising our financial affairs, cleaning the house, organising the food and clothes, preparing stuff for the house sitters, etc.

I have been equally busy tinkering with camping and 4WD gear in the shed.

We seem to be ready and its only early in the evening. And still the biggest 'discussion' we have had is over the font.

All very unsettling really.

We'll see you when the dust settles.

hors d'ouvre

By coincidence and design, our big loop is going to intersect in space and time with the wanderings of a few of our friends. We hope to meet the Stevenses (does anybody know the correct plural of Stevens?) for a few days in the Pilbara, and spend several weeks with the Lamonts in the Kimberley. Our trip will also intersect in time, but not space, with the Hills and Joyces who will be traveling through Arnhem Land with the Lamonts while we head back through the centre.

Last weekend, to whet our appetites, we decided to muster all the wannabe bushies at our homestead for a camp oven cookoff. We supplied the coals, everyone contributed a dish, and the end product was a great night of good food and big talk.

The rules for the night were "STRICTLY BUSH FOOD, none of yer fancy pantsy quail egg souffles nor chick pea and fenugreek frittatas!" but these rules were enthusiastically breached by everyone in an effort to out do each other in displays of camp cooking prowess.

Camp oven cookoff in full swing (note the safety boots)

Our own contribution was bedourie oven pizzas, including caramelised onion and blue cheese, and basil, olive and fetta alongside the more traditional ham and cheese. The Joyces conjured up a baked pumpkin extravaganza, the Paceys made a chook curry while the Hills threw some snags and kebabs on the barbie. For desert, Nic threw in a brownie and the Stevenses provided the most delicious 'snot block' this side of the black stump. It was so good that Rod had to have a second piece just to check he wasn't imagining the first, and then a third piece just to be sure.

The Lamonts were the only ones to play by the rules and brought a huge camp oven full of veges and sheep shanks. Sadly, the sheer mass of this meal meant that it took many hours to cook by which time we were all stuffed. On the bright side, Karin ended up with enough fodder for a month of school lunches.

All this epicureal toil was accompanied by the discordant melody of kids running around laughing and yelling and occasionally stopping long enough to stuff another sausage into their mouths. They gambolled about like deranged brumbies until eventually they halted, cowed and beaten, and their parents turned their heads for home while the embers faded to grey on the side lawn.

the spoils

We'll see ya when the dust settles!